by Caroline Day
I suddenly see him from a different perspective. In another way. He is not just a consulting physician, he is an attractive man. Young enough, barely in his early thirties, awesome haircut, charismatic face.
I try not to compare the stranger with the doctor, but doubts are stuck in my head. His voice, scent, tone. Some are similar, some are not. Just like with Sullivan. Before that, I was sure that it was the new professor who helped me to save my brother, but now I strongly doubt that.
What about Dr. Connor?
He is rich enough, he is directly involved in my brother’s treatment. Moreover, Dr. Connor knows everything about me, my circumstances, where I study, where I work... Adam probably told him about me. What a mess!
Am I losing my mind? I see this stranger everywhere and try on his image on any man who has something in common with him. First, I compared him with the Pakistani. Now, it’s Dr. Connor’s turn.
‘Dolores, are you okay?’ the man pulls me out of my thoughts.
‘I am fine. It's just been a hard day.’
‘Take a rest then. Healthy sleep is essential to a healthy life.’ He tucks a strand of hair that has escaped from my ponytail behind my ear and makes off to my brother's room.
What's it all about? Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I don't care. I need to go back to the dorm, to my new home. To my notes that will help me to pass the last exam of the semester. That’s what is really important to me – my studies. I shouldn't let anyone distract me. Neither the stranger, nor Sullivan, nor even Dr. Connor is allowed to distract me.
Otherwise I’ll lose my mind...
Chapter 15.
All the way to the hostel, the words of Adam haunt me. His reaction when I told that the house had been sold, the look on his face after he learned it. Disappointment. Offense. Guilt. And the words he said later:
‘There's a lot you don't know.’
It’s probably a good thing that he doesn’t know that I sold our house to a stranger, but it doesn't really matter. Anyway, there's only one question running through my mind again and again:
What don't I know? What are the guys hiding from me and why? After all, there were so many opportunities, so many options, so many reasons, but neither Adam nor Andrew said a word. It probably has nothing to do with my brother's homophobia as I have thought before.
No doubt,
there must be something else. Something that I didn't notice before, that I ignored.
‘Why is your door open? Getting ready for a big party?’ Andrew rushes into the kitchen, making me lift my head up. I did nothing, just stared at the falling snowflakes, sitting on the windowsill, and tried to drink hot chocolate. ‘Hey, why are you so sour as a lemon?’
‘Adam's missing. He doesn’t answer the phone. His fellow students haven't seen him for a while,’ I whisper. ‘You know, I am afraid to be alone. They passed away the very same day the year ago…’
I hardly notice when everything around me starts blurring, grows hazy, as if I see the world through the tinted glass. A gentle, almost imperceptible wave of warm air wraps around me. I need it so much that unconsciously cling to him.
‘Everything will be all right,’ I hear the tension in Andrew’s voice.
He steps away and looks warily at me, but I barely notice this in the dark eyes of my friend through the veil of tears. Or maybe his favorite bear cap hides his real emotions...
‘Do you want me to say? We can wait for him together.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ he gives me a friendly smile. ‘I am sure he's fine.’
Andrew hugs her even tighter, looking at the blurry snowflakes outside the window. Christmas Eve. My first Christmas Eve without parents. Without my brother. But with the best friend who usually spends this day with his parents.
‘Why aren’t you at home, by the way?’ I ask as if out of the blue.
‘That’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. Hey, whose is this?’ He nods towards the men's gloves on the locker.
‘Dad's colleague stopped by. We had some tea, talked about parents.’
Once again, the wary gaze envelops me in a thin veil but I don't pay attention.
Good days left behind. We hanged out with the same people, had fun, walked together, arranged for Halloween party. We were like family until life crushed us all. One by one. Adam is in the hospital, Andrew ended up with Alex, and I am engaged in a strange game.
What next?
When I get to the hostel, Mrs. Robinson, our guardian, catches up with me and gives me a box. Who sent it? I have no idea. There is no return address, and the woman does not know who brought the parcel. Well, I figure it out later. I hope there are no explosives inside, and I won't be charged with terrorism.
‘Wow, Brown! You’ve got some presents from admirers, haven't you?’ Carlos catches up with me at the door to my room. He looks pleased and happy like a March cat. He darts glances at my shapes. Where are you looking at, silly? No exciting views for you, I am hiding under my oversized jacket.
‘Well, you never give me presents, so what should I do? I take them from others!’
‘I am the best present you can get,’ the guy defiantly moves his muscles and smiles all thirty-two teeth. There are thirty teeth actually since he lost two teeth in a boxing competition.
‘Tell it to your girlfriend,’ I slam the door in his face. He is the last person I want to see now. I feel messed up and confused, and this Mexican clown doesn’t make things easier.
However, I quickly forget about the joker since there are too many unresolved issues on my plate. Preoccupied with thoughts about events of the day and what they are hiding from me, I forget about the parcel. I toss the box on the bed, change my clothes, and start making dinner. Fortunately, I am all alone here. It's deep stillness around. It shouldn't surprise me though. Who in the right mind would go to the kitchen that late?
I get back to my room and my eyes suddenly focus on the damn parcel. I open it and see a swimsuit. A common black two-piece swimsuit. There is no price tag but judging from the smoothness of the fabric, it's brand new. I also see a note inside:
Anonymous: ‘I hope you can swim. Meet you in the Drive club at noon.’
Is he kidding? I have an exam at ten. Swimming? Really? He is aware of my financial problems, sensitivity and my brother’s disease, so why couldn’t he check my schedule? At least during the examination period! The fitness center is not far from the campus but it will take time to get there. I have to finish earlier, complete all the tasks quickly and properly, and rush to the engagement.
What if I am late? Ah, never mind. He doesn’t give a damn and I need to worry about getting there in time and not messing up everything. Besides, this time he prepared a long list of guidelines. Some of them will be sent to my phone tomorrow, and some of them are written in printed letters and enclosed with the swimsuit. I would like to see him writing the note.
Damned Pakistani! After all, I know that it's him. Why do we need to play the spy game? I'm sure I'll be in the blindfold again. I won't see him. All I have is his touches. Why does he hide his identity? I am sure it would make things easier for me.
Or not?
What if the professor has nothing to do with the mysterious stranger? I don't think so. Dr. Connor’s voice is different. It’s not hoarse. Dead end. I’d better relax and stop guessing who’s hiding behind my back since more guesses will drive me out of my senses. To be honest, the option is not particularly attractive.
But I cannot suppress my emotions.
I: ‘Who are you?’
I get the reply right away.
Anonymous: ‘’It doesn't matter.’
I: ‘Do I know you? Have I seen you?’
Anonymous: ‘Yes.’
I wonder where it happened. When? Under what circumstances? How well does he know me?
I: ‘Is that all?’
Anonymous: ‘No. We were close.’
Who’s he? No one comes to mind right now. Really. The last time I wa
s close with someone... Long time ago.
Anonymous: ‘Have you received the package?’
I: ‘Yes.’
Anonymous: ‘I look forward to our meeting. Good night, Donatella.’
After a while, thinking of his replies and reading the messages, I realized that they are not helpful at all. We were very close in the club, we saw each other there. Well, he saw me.
With these thoughts, I wrap myself in my favorite blanket and fall asleep. Mom’s blanket. Anyway, I wake up right before my alarm goes on. It's nine o’clock. What? Really? It had to go on half an hour earlier! Damn it!
I quickly pull on the first jeans and sweater I see, and put my papers and swimsuit into the backpack. He would probably hit me if I forgot it. I get out of the room to the surprised look of Mrs. Robinson, who didn't even have a chance to greet me.
Andrew: ‘Are you already at home? Is everything fine?’
I read the message and get on the subway. He texted me yesterday but the phone beeping didn't awake me. Is it too late to answer? On my way to the University, I’m texting him back that I am fine.
Of course, I did not have time to prepare for the exam but I have some knowledge on the subject since I did not miss a single class in this semester. The course is difficult but I am smart enough to understand it, although there is no certainty in some matters.
I get to the classroom on time, Andrew takes a seat at a distance, as the professor has told him. My friend waved and wished me luck. Well, I really need it. The tasks are simple, and it only took me half an hour instead of the set an hour and a half to finish the paper. I focus on checking the work in complete silence until...
‘Professor Porter,’ the door opens, and Mr. Sullivan rushes into the classroom. ‘Mrs. Thompson asked me to tell you that the next double period for the senior year is yours.’
‘What? As far as I remember, it's your class!’ Our teacher looks at the young man with a pale look of an aged man.
‘I have some business to attend to.’
‘Fine. I hope I get a raise this month,’ the professor shouts after Mr. Sullivan, who leaves, spreading the scent of cologne all around. And I, stricken with a sudden guess, stop listening to their conversation and the old man’s mumbling.
Sure, he has to meet me in fitness center...
Chapter 16.
Everything inside me turns upside down. Again. Like yesterday, when I heard his voice with a husky note for the first time. A deep, a bit growling voice with predatory notes. Voice of my predator who's waiting for me in the fitness center. And again, I have no right to refuse or pretend to be sick. I can’t even use the exam as an excuse. No way!
He saw me, he gave me a brief but sharp look before leaving the room. A few seconds ago.
I’ll probably get there in time.
‘I’m done,’ I rush to the professor with backpack in my hands.
‘Very well, miss Brown. You’ll get the results tomorrow...’
But I don't listen to the old man, and literally run out of the classroom. The hallway is empty but footsteps can be heard in the distance. It’s around the corner to the right, where the exit is. I run there without thinking twice. Who cares about Andrew's puzzled look and Professor Porter's indignant speech?
I want to ask him directly, looking straight into his eyes.
But Sullivan has disappeared. He's neither in the lobby, nor at the entrance to the building, nor in a deserted parking lot. I stand without my jacket, looking around, trying to catch sight of a dark figure in a black coat. But he has disappeared. Faded away. Vanished into thin air.
The cold air comes through my clothes, touches my skin, sending goosebumps down my spine. People look at me as if I am crazy. Everybody, street musicians with guitars at the ready, smokers standing in a separate place to savor the stinky smoke – they all are looking at me. I wouldn't be surprised if my student fellows were standing at the window and watching me, crazy Dolores Brown darted back and forth in the cold, looking for a young professor who had just left. But I don't care.
I hope to get some answers, even if they don't do any good…
I have to get my jacket back, but my legs don't move, and my eyes are still searching for the mysterious professor. Why am I sure it's him? What made me think that he is the stranger? I don't know. That's just my instinct. I feel it in my guts, with every cell of my body. I am a hundred percent sure.
He couldn't have gone far. I dial the stranger's number, looking carefully at the walkways to the exit from the campus. It's deep stillness around. No one answers my call. My second attempt is fail too. The third call goes to voice mail. Cool. I am not going to leave a message. Anyway, we’ll see each other soon.
In the meantime, I get on the subway and have a snack on the go. It's noon. I am standing in front of the fitness center. Judging by the price tags and the way employees treat the customers, not everyone can afford to swim here.
Anonymous: ‘Ask the employees for a certificate in the name of Donatella Richie.’
People in sportswear are everywhere. Everyone looks friendly, people smile at me, but I am not in the mood to smile. I have no idea what this stranger is up to. Yes, it would be better if he remains a stranger without any image or name.
Anonymous: ‘You’ll find all you need in the locker 5: towel, slippers, accessories. Change your clothes and go to the pool.’
The swimsuit is not just black, the fabric is almost transparent, especially at the chest. Hardened nipples will certainly be visible Damn this chill! Is it fear or excitement? Something I can’t understand. I've never felt it before. However, it doesn't really matter. It’s your job, Lo. Just do it.
Following the stranger's instruction, just like before, I soon come to the pool area. There’s nothing out of the ordinary – six tracks six feet deep. There are not as many people as at the entrance, but still enough to make me feel confused – six people, to be more precise. They all are swimming in the pool.
Anonymous: ‘Take the leftmost track. Go into the water and swim half the way.’
If the stranger knew about my ‘love’ for sports he would never ask me. Sports and me – we are from different worlds. The last time I practiced was in high school, as for swimming... Yes, I was in high school, too. In the Atlantic Ocean. When my parents were alive...
The water is warm enough. It’s neither too hot nor too cold, just the one you need for comfortable swimming. Muscles weakened, when I get to the middle of the track, my breathing becomes quickened, uneven. I am too slow compared to others. Well, I’ve told that I have nothing to do with sports.
Anonymous: ‘Stop the halfway, look up, at the smoked windows.’
I find them right under the high ceiling. Two black windows, like the ones we had at the school hall. There was a small room for audio operator or school officials behind the windows. Who needs a place like that in a fitness center? Why do the windows overlook the pool? Maybe lifeguards are hanging out there. Why is the room located so high, not by the water?
Anonymous: ‘Caress yourself. Don't look away!’
Wow! This is something new.
Are you kidding? How do you imagine that? There are a lot of people swimming in here, and you suggest that I fill the pool with my juice! Really?
Anonymous: ‘Imagine that I am behind you. My hands touch your beautiful body. My hands squeeze the nipples through the fabric of the swimsuit. They are hardened, right? My one hand rests on your breasts; the other is between your legs. We cling to each other. You feel the heat of my body.’
I hardly realize when his image becomes real. He is standing behind me, just like he described in the message. He is by my side and his presence gives me unbearable pleasure. These hands that are caressing in a circular motion my body, languishing for the stranger, are not mine. These fingers that are moving inside, rhythmically bending to touch the most sensitive spot, do not belong to me. It’s him. My stranger, the one who I see in every attractive man in my environment. I am carefully searc
hing for familiar features in every person around.
Anonymous: ‘Do you feel horny? Now, put your hands away. And don't you dare cum! Finish the track and get out of the water.’
Heck! It's easier to say than to do. How am I expected to get out of the pool with my nipples hardened and heat in my panties? I would eagerly cum right now, and nobody would notice it, but I have a strong feeling that that he's watching me., watching me from everywhere. No, I cannot oppose him.
Giving a sigh of disappointment, I swim up to the pool nosing and step out. I’m desperately gasping for air. It's tart and too heavy to infill my lungs. I try to take a breath but it doesn’t help a lot.
Anonymous: ‘There is a spa area next to the pool. Fist door on the right, clouded glass. No need to worry, nobody except us can get there. Go there, take off your clothes and wait for me.’
The temperature in the steam room is already set. It's foggy and hot inside. I was mistaken when I thought taking a deep breath after running a marathon. It was much worse here.
At first I feel scared that someone will suddenly emerge behind me. What if I take off my clothes, and then an unasked guest will get the wrong door? Well, he texted me that nobody else would get there. But... Who knows? I feel uncomfortable, feel a strong desire to hide my naked breasts with hardened nipples behind the towel, and I would prefer to leave my panties on. But then I recall that I have no choice.
I take the lower bench after laying a towel, and close my eyes. I do my best to relax as he asked, try not to think of what's about to happen. What? Why? I don't want to! Anyway, it's time to shuffle the whole matter out of mind but it doesn't work out.
My muscles tighten up, my knees are shaking even though it's so hot here that you are breathing out not carbon dioxide, but fire.
Suddenly, the door opens, bringing a fresh air blast and closes just as quickly. I feel confused for a while, make a move to hide myself and open my eyes, but a familiar voice says: